


Packs and luggage

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-28
Updated: 2008-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth mentally rambles about relationships</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: comanche_rider
> 
> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> AN: read [Infinite Little Actions](http://ed-84.livejournal.com/21385.html) from ed_84 and.. couldn't stop the writing bug from putting this little scene down.  anyone have bug spray?

Tired, grumpy, and most of all, *lonely*, Elizabeth fished for the spare dental floss that she was *sure* was somewhere on the shelf.  The pack of cheap razors he loves; no.  The hair gel Lorne gave him as a gag birthday present and which he insists he has to keep so he can find a way to use it in a practical joke against the major; no.  The mangled, still all-too-full tubes of toothpaste, antibiotic ointment and anti-itch cream; no, no and no.

She used to hate Simon's things mixing with hers, making her take longer to look for *her* hand cream or *her* spare soap.  But then she remembers *he* would turn around and whine about her leaving work papers on the coffee table and the couch-blanket thrown over the armchair.

John's mess -and it *was* a mess, the man couldn't seem to equate putting a bottle back in its place with always putting his underwear and ammunition in the same corner of his field pack- was a *part* of her things.  As much as she was aware that it was the toothpaste *he* used.. it was just a part of her room.  Their room.  When they went to Earth, she automatically packed all of it into the luggage.  If she needed hand cream, she used *the* hand cream. 

The fact that, this time, the bottle on the counter was one he'd chosen, was irrelevant. Shampoo, soap and shaving cream went from vanilla and fruit-scented to mint or unscented and back again, mostly without comment. 

The occasional 'discussions' about *some* of those choices were something they both tried to keep in mind and respect; she avoided rose, he stayed away from musk.  At least on shared items.  She had no problem *whatsoever* with his deodorant.. -as her hand closed around the stick, she pulled off the lid and took a breath, knowing it would only make his absence all the more real.. but unable to help reaching for the familiar- And he'd been known to get very 'distracted' when he caught her fresh from a shower with her body wash.

These days, she understood what her mother had meant about being careful who she chose for a life partner. 

She realized that the only reason she and Simon had survived as a couple at all, was that she'd spent three quarters of her time on business trips.  John, on the other hand, had actually cut down on the amount of time he spent in the field.  Not through 'discussion', let along any request on her part.  He'd just assigned less and less missions to his team.  Assigned Rodney to Lorne more often, Ronon to SGA12.  And Teyla had apparently read his mind and requested to spend more time working on Atlantis.  Carson wanted to train her medically, and Zelenka said she was a miracle at explaining things to 'soldiers' -she automatically deleted the Czech he'd put in front of the word-. 

And yet they hadn't killed each other.  Had instead settled into a private life that didn't seem to care that they were opposites in so many ways, that the conditions of their rooms had been very different from each other.  The bathroom was now much messier than hers had been, and the living room much messier than his.  But he knew where specific papers were as well as she knew where his razors were.  He rolled his eyes at the always-moving couch blanket as much as she did over the multiple mangled tubes.

And now this week-long trip of SGA1 to negotiate for a science exchange -she grinned at the thought of what the rebellious major she'd first met would have said at the idea-, was the first time in two months that they'd been apart.  And she was starting to convince herself that Teyla, Lorne and Rodney could take care of Atlantis on their own these days. 

Next time, he was packing up *both* of their field packs. Even if she had to pull out the pure rose-oil perfume to convince him... **  
**__

 


	2. Good morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP - John waking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I hear a request for fluffy smut? this was banged off (dirty!) quickly, after getting completely distracted by reading on PG..

John woke up slowly, something he took guilty pride in having learned to do in the last few months.

A soldier in the field couldn't afford to be anything but wide awake in an instant, and so his managing to learn such an odd 'ability' was just one more proof of the change in his life. He spent every minute he could on Atlantis now, and didn't object to doing his paperwork, making plans, writing recommendations and requests. That almost certainly had something to do with the fact that he did it all from a comfortable chair he'd acquired and which sat off to the side of Elizabeth office.

Elizabeth.

He reflexively shifted forward the inch it took for his front to be in complete contact with the soft, warm skin of her back and thighs. His nose slipped into a familiar spot on the side of her neck, encountering the edge of the comforter and sliding underneath it to breathe in the drugging scent of heated skin. One arm was half numb from her head sleeping on it, but the other took advantage of the closer contact and reached to hold even more of her near; closing familiarly, proprietarily, over his wife's crotch.

Wriggling a tiny bit closer, John sighed contentedly. This was the way to wake up, he thought drowsily.

The half-erection he'd woken with was no surprise. All else aside, Elizabeth had had a meeting until late in the evening yesterday and he'd been too beat from a long day of training recruits to wait up for her.

Combing through her curls half-idly, he lipped her shoulder lazily. He was in no hurry, either to wake up, *or* to have intercourse. Making love.. *that* was something he relished; loving Elizabeth, in every way, in *any* way, was his life. Keeping Atlantis and its people safe was just an extension of that, really. Not nearly as pleasurable.. but still related enough to keep him content.

The lazy fingers finally slipped through the thickly barrier and he smiled, his tongue mirroring the path his index was delicately tracing on her lips. Circling and circling; slip-sliding on moist flesh that his still sleepy brain half monitored the changes to.

Elizabeth, still dead to the world, sighed when his finger slid down between the slowly swelling ridges, his hips rolling into hers as he touched wet heat and started waking up in earnest. He trailed his lips up her shoulder to her neck as his fingertip settled down to circle the little nub above the source of moisture and pleasure, to which he also gave the odd stroke.

He was nibbling at the tender skin below her ear, knowing her body needed time and convincing to wake up and more than happy to provide incentive in the meantime. Of course, he'd have liked it better if his other was free to fondle a breast or two, but he'd given that up after the first week. No matter how they went to sleep, Elizabeth would inevitably wind up on her side, her head on his arm and the rest of his body spooned behind her. Mornings meant one numb arm, and only one free arm -to do whatever- until she woke and freed him from his golden prison.

He was stiff, throbbing and controlling the grinding movement of his hips with difficulty when he really took notice of the change in her body. Entirely swollen sex, moisture making his fingertip glide sexily as hell, and a very raised hood that made her shudder whenever he skated close by. With a victorious grin, John nibbled at Elizabeth's earlobe as he carefully brushed over her clit. The jerk of her body against his made him moan, Little John ground tight between the cheeks of her ass.

Alternating the deliberate brushes with continued circling, it only took a couple more runs to hear Elizabeth moan "Johnnnn" as her mind snapped awake.

"Good morning." Now that she was with him, John pulled his hips back, his hand coming around to shift his cock down between those slick, thick lips, biting down on her shoulder with a moan as the heat seared him. Panting softly, Elizabeth shifted her body carefully to get in position for his thrust, even before he got his hand back around to finish guiding his tip into her eagerly flexing vagina. Holding himself still for just a second to take a last deep breath, John felt her reach up and tangle her fingers in the hair behind his ear, fumbling a hint that he should bend his head closer for a kiss.

The slide in was slow and controlled, feeling Elizabeth moan against his lips. And then there was no more waiting, his index found her clit again and stroked haphazardly as he rocked back and forth, his body knowing, nowadays, exactly how much he could slide back to stay engaged, even as she added her movements to the play, just as aware, as she whimpered his name again, fingers clenched tight against his skull as they panted together in a sloppy version of kissing, both concentrated on an entirely different part of their anatomies.

John could feel tension clamping down on his balls and desperately twitched at her clit, wanting her with him, finally letting himself go when he felt her body suddenly stop and tense up, every muscle tightening irrevocably as he cried her name harshly, his finger jerking without any thought now. The perfect, *hard* massage on his cock finished him with long, drawn-out stream of pleasurable agony, just aware enough of her breathless cries for them to add to the stimulation.

Hearing the pleased humour in her voice got him out of his minutes-long happy daze, "Good morning." He opened his eyes for the first time. The warm glow of weakness in his body, wisps of still-flowery-scented hair in his nose and the flowery pattern of the comforter in his view were heaven. More than reason enough to open his otherwise contentedly closed lids.

Yeah, definitely another very good morning.


End file.
